


Time After Time

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M, The Vault (Doctor Who), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: The Doctor turns up 6 months late, Missy turns up drunk as a skunk.  Vault Sex.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Missy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	Time After Time

The Doctor very nearly stepped right back out when he walked through the door of the vault. Missy stood there in the light of the false early morning sun with a half empty bottle of wine in one hand wearing one of his old t-shirts. He preferred ginger beer, but Missy went right for fortified red wines. “You’re late,” she told him harshly with a slosh of wine inside her bottle. “Very late.” He watched her hair move as she spun, somewhat independent. Missy’s hair was like River’s hair, so that meant the Doctor knew what it would feel like between his fingers and he wondered if she’d let him confirm at some point. “Why are you late?” It was a good thing she was blisteringly drunk or she might have noticed how distracted he was by the fact she’d cut the neck hole of his t-shirt open wider so it hung off one pale shoulder. “Oi!” She waved her hand in his face. “At least give me a story.” She threw her hand up in exasperation when he came up short, walking away as she grumbled. “Stuck here in this prison, living by proxy of an idiot.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re correct,” she countered as she turned to stare at him. “You still haven’t answered my question.” Missy brought the bottle to her lips, taking a pull. Her mascara was smudged and she looked as though she may have been crying, but even that was beautiful because he was a fool for the Time Lady standing before him, always had been. “And stop staring at me. You wouldn’t know what to do with me.” Maybe it was the challenge that had him moving, maybe it was the way her hair was piled up so insanely on her head, but he went to her. She had leaned back against a book shelf, the hem of his shirt riding up her thighs. He didn’t know that he could say anything meaningful or even coherent right now, but he could run his hand over her side, could bunch that shirt up in his fist and pull her close. His thumb brushed the bare skin of her hip and knowing that there was nothing between them, not so much as a scrap of fabric, he was overwhelmed.

“Recognize the shirt?” Missy moved closer and the Doctor was damn proud that he didn’t step back. “You spilled tea on it and left it to dry before you left me here for six months without a visitor.” She reached out and pinched his side with a strength that surprised him. 

“Ow.”  
“Oh, good. You aren’t brain dead. Can you say more than a sentence at a time or are you too busy staring at my nipples?” And now he had to fight not to look down. Then, once he did, he couldn’t take his eyes from them. The Doctor was liking this new form of hers far too much. It was incredibly distracting and incredibly off-putting to be this distracted by attraction. 

“Sorry… I’m sorry.” He moved away, embarrassed.

“Don’t be bloody sorry, do something about it,” she told him with a good shove in the middle of the chest before she moved over to flop down on the couch with a book and her wine, clearly mentally dismissing him. 

Only he couldn’t peel his eyes from her bare legs. He’d never seen Missy’s legs before and had always assumed she was bell shaped under those skirts. Only she wasn’t. She had long, slender legs that he knew to be strong and quick. Now all he could think was how many nanoseconds it would take to run his fingers from her ankle bone to her hip. Missy shifted to lay on her stomach, the shirt rising to show off the barest hint of her bare backside. 

_This is a terrible idea._ His mind screamed it at him, but the Doctor slowly walked toward her. He knew Missy saw him but she didn’t so much as glance in his direction. Instead she kept reading which was just fine with him. His mouth watered thinking about the curve of her calf or the dimple next to her knee. She shifted her leg again and he watched a centimeter more skin appear. He swallowed thickly and reached out with shaking fingers. He touched her calf first, the tips of his fingers trailing up to the back of her knee. Missy let out a soft little sigh that he imagined would taste of her wine and maybe a little sleep. Fingertips turned into his palm and by the time it landed, it was on her upper thigh, spanning most of it. “Missy.” His voice was almost unrecognizable as his hand moved down to her calf and he knelt behind her. 

She turned to look at him, spreading her thighs a little farther, then went back to ignoring him in favor of her book. He knew the cue too well and just like he had their entire life, he gave in to that need to connect with her. He rubbed his thumb high on her inner thigh, digging into the muscle for a moment as his other hand got into the game with a slow run up the back of her other leg. His fingers moved to soft, thin skin on her upper thighs, fingertips just barely tracing the curve of her backside. She moaned softly, reaching back to run her hand over his hip before it came back to turn a page. He leaned forward, his lips just barely moving over her calf. Missy might be pretending to focus on her book, but he felt the muscles of her calf tighten. He moved higher, bending as his hand moved up her other thigh. Missy moved up onto her knees a little, shoving a pillow underneath her hips. 

She was showing him the world, every bit of her from her waist to her toes bare to him. Then The Doctor couldn’t contain himself. He leaned down and ran his tongue between her folds and directly into her. She as wet, clearly waiting for his attentions despite her act, though she managed to stay reading, back to him as his mouth explored. He was an utter idiot for doing this, but he couldn’t stop himself because the sounds she made were ones that would burn into his memory and stick around for quite some time. Missy thought she was so much more composed than she actually was, the intoxicant being mostly to blame for that one. But to an extent, she was who she was and Missy had always liked a bit of attention. His mouth moved up over the rise of her backside to the small of her back. He could hear how raggedly her breaths were moving in her chest, and the pounding of her pulses against her ribs thrilled him. 

Her hands found his and brought them up under her shirt to full breasts that he could not wait to lay eyes on. Finally touching someone of his species like this after all these years was intoxicating in and of itself. He was pressed to her, rubbing himself into the back of her thigh. “Is it as big this time around,” Missy asked curiously. “You know what…” She gave him a sound push so he fell back on his ass against the arm of the sofa, “I’ll find out myself.” She turned, tossing the pillow she’d been propped on aside and climbing into his lap, not an ounce of shame. The Doctor was feeling shame, but that didn’t stop him from bringing her hands to her hips the second she got close enough. Missy shifted, rocking against him with a soft little noise he couldn’t find the right word for. It was half a sound, a guttural syllable if it was anything, but now that he knew it was there, he was working for it. 

Missy looked down at him, her nails running through his hair then down his cheeks. “You left me alone,” she told him with an expression so sad and lonely that he truly felt deep guilt as she searched his eyes. “I… I thought for a moment….” And that was when he saw her lip quiver just a touch. As though The Mistress hadn’t had him twisted around her pinkie for the span of their entire lives, now she was making her lip quiver? He was dead. “I worried you’d died.” Her fingers ran along his hairline and into his now longer hair. “And I wasn’t only upset that I was going to be stuck in here for the rest of my regenerations, starving to death each time.” She looked at him quite seriously. “I was ….” His hand came up between her shoulder blades and encouraged her to come forward a bit. He wrapped his arms around her now, hugging her tight. “I don’t think I want you to die anymore.” She whispered it in his ear, a secret, a promise of sorts, before moving off the couch entirely. “Feeling that way……” She crossed her arms over her chest and he could see how small she felt in her posture. It was a posture she’d taken as a young boy more than once, sinking in on herself. “I should have just let them kill me.” She put her back to him and he wanted to go wrap his arms around her and hold her. 

Fortunately he pulled his head out of his ass before his own sonic screwdriver was his end. He patted his jacket pockets with wide eyes staring at what he was looking for right in her hand. “SIX. MONTHS.” Then she did the unthinkable and snapped the sonic in half before chucking each half against the wall so hard it exploded into thousands of pieces. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!” Her Scottish accent, well _his_ , was bleeding through and if anything it endeared her to him more. He really was a sick bastard, wasn’t he? She hurled a vase at him which he narrowly ducked. “Time doesn’t feel the same in here, it’s wrong… feels wrong… smells wrong… time even _tastes_ wrong in here. And you have me… locked up… alone…” Tears were falling now and while he was still dodging whatever she could lay her hands on to throw at him, she was slowing down. “I hate you.”

“I know,” The Doctor told her as he approached with a white hankie extended at arm’s length. “I have been in prison. But now that we’ve run into this kink, we can plan for it. I can have a contingency. Let’s… um… let’s …. you want to be a farmer?” 

“Farmer,” she asked in total disbelief, eyes squinting hard and looking at him as though he were insane. “Do I look like a bleedin’ farmer to ya?” Her hands were back on her hips, defiant. That was good, he knew what to do with her angry or defiant. Not vulnerable. This was so weird. “No I do not want to farm. Do you expect me to have animals grazing in my parlor? Perhaps a dozen tomato plants for when I’d like to make a sauce?” She sputtered it out in indignation. “Now I’m feeling like I was quite silly earlier.” She was calming down, he thought as she approached. Her shoulders were far more relaxed and he was almost relieved. It wasn’t until she was leaning in to whisper in his ear that he knew he was totally wrong. “I really would like to see you dead.” 

She gave him a hard shove in the middle of the chest, but he was ready for it that time and grabbed her wrists. “Missy, stop.” She fought him hard and he had to work to restrain her. “Damn it, Missy. I said stop.” He turned her around, grabbing her around the waist with her arms pinned at her sides. “You can’t go throwing around glassware and striking people.” 

“… you’re right,” she was clearly focusing on her breathing. “That can’t be all I do.” It was the sound more than anything that registered. It was the back of her skull hitting his nose and breaking it with a resonating crunch he felt down into his second brainstem. He let go of her and she took advantage of his surprise, shoving him toward the door. “Now that I know you’re alive, I can’t stand the sight of ye. Out.” 

Blood poured from his nose and the Doctor had to grab up one of her blankets to stem the flow. “Missy… what the hell…” 

“You’ll live. I might not have. Think about your choices. Now go!” She pointed at the door, glaring at him. The Doctor decided that it really might be best if he did leave. The exit was far and he had to go past her again, hard cock, bleeding nose, utterly humiliated. She didn’t impede him as he went, leaving The Doctor to exit and maintain just a touch of dignity as he hoped desperately that the next time he went in there he didn’t end up with a broken nose. She wasn’t going to scare him away, torment him until he ran like he always did. This time he wasn’t running. This time the Doctor was going to keep his promise and stay with her. He attempted to go to her a week later and was rebuffed. Over and over, she refused to see him. Nardole was able to go in and bring her necessities. Other than that, Missy took silence and solitude over so much as hearing his voice. The Doctor was upset, he tried to speak to her through the door of the vault but she said nothing, didn’t even respond to him in the least. The Doctor was going wild with worry by the time she finally allowed him in three months later.

He came to her with a story. That was what drew her in, a story about him getting seriously injured. She thought it was hilarious. When he added in that he’d broken two sonic screwdrivers and a pair of glasses, she howled, holding her sides. Seeing that smile, the light in her eyes… hell, just seeing her face right now, made him feel like maybe he was going to make it through. Sometimes the darkness came knocking quite loudly and all he could do to keep it from settling was run. But he couldn’t, not with her here. “Let me see, let me see,” she clapped as she hopped off the top of the piano, ambling down the stairs to him. She was in her purple suit, hair done up, make up almost perfect. She’d dressed for today. He wondered if she had planned to see him regardless of his story or if it was coincidence. 

“Near the back.” The Doctor bent, letting her examine the scar on the back of his head.

“I’ve got to get all the hair out of the way first, dear.” Missy pulled his hair a bit, combing through it with her nails mercilessly scraping. “OH… oh, that’s a good one. Did you use glue?” He felt a sharp pull and she put a strand of his hair in front of his eyes. “It was stuck.” 

“In my scalp? That’s how they come,” the Doctor joked. 

“I saved you an ingrown hair. You should be thanking me,” Missy informed him. He was smart enough to get the hair back from him. “It’s nice,” she gestured to his hair. “Reminds me of the one who did all the Karate.”

“Venusian Aikido, thank you very much.” 

“And that automobile you had… yellow was not your color, Doctor.” 

She was still running her fingers through his hair, eyes staring in the middle distance. Three months had been a very long time to be without her after seeing her near daily. Even a Time Lord missed their friends, after all. Her nails ran to the back of his neck, scraping softly under the collar of his jacket. “Stay awhile,” she asked as her hands slipped over his shoulders. She moved around in a rustle of skirts, her hands never leaving him. He knew it wasn’t purely affection, she was trying her best to sap up any atron energy she could. She divested him of his jacket and took it to a hook on the wall, neatly hanging it up. He missed the feeling of her fingers in his hair already and he tried to distract himself by telling her about the new books he’d brought. “Stop.”

“Stop what?”

Missy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Small talk, Doctor. I am capable of reading titles, thank you very much.” He frowned at the sharpness of her tone, wanting to reach out but knowing she was too far and would move by the time he got to her. Missy was difficult. “Tell me why you picked them, not what you picked.” Then, quite unexpectedly, Missy moved to sit in his lap, perched on one thigh balanced carefully. Her fingers landed back in his hair low at the nape of his neck. “This one, for instance.” She held out a title with gold lettering. 

“It’s from Baylor 3. You’ve always enjoyed her writing.”

“Their,” Missy corrected. “Gender normative,” she clucked, giving his hair a little tug. The Doctor’s teeth bit into his bottom lip at the gesture, unhappy with just how much that gesture affected him. “This one?” She picked up a heavy volume, smirking. She knew exactly why he’d picked it. He raised one brow, his hand settling at her waist. It was mostly a comfort thing. If she was going to perch in his lap, then he wasn’t going to shy away. She wanted closeness and he’d give it to her if that’s what she needed. 

“That one’s filthy,” he told her. “And in a mix of five languages.” She perked up at that. 

“Thought you might enjoy the challenge.” 

Instead of questioning him about the other books, she immediately opened the one in front of her, settling in against him. The Doctor leaned back in the chair and she repositioned sitting with both legs across his lap, holding the book for them both. “Trade pages,” Missy asked. 

She looked up at him, eyes so clear and bold that he couldn’t resist. “Not all of it.” How many sets of eyes had looked up at him like that, with Koschi’s soul behind them? How many sets had he loved? She read over the first page twice before she started to translate. She did it softly, a private dialogue between them as her fingers trailed over the edge of the page. Missy’s voice danced on his skin, finding its way to the bare flesh just above the collar of his shirt. By the time she’d finished her page, he was mesmerized. She had that, though. Her rhythmic ability to capture your mind. It was him this time, though. He’d fallen into it. She didn’t ask him to read, just continued, doing her best to make his hearts speed. This was a terrible idea and he knew it. Still there was his hand at her hip, the other struggling to stay on the arm of the chair. 

It took him far too long to realize she’d paused, looking down to meet just the barest hint of ice blue around blown pupils. It was getting to her then too. “Do you want me to continue?” Missy leaned forward and he grabbed her with both hands, surprising hell out of them both. “I was just getting my tea,” she laughed. “But now that I know how you feel about….” Incredibly stupid would be the phrase he used later, but for right now kissing her seemed like the very best idea to get her to stop talking. She didn’t pull back, but wasn’t responsive at first. He was nearly ready to withdraw when she parted her lips and sunk her hand into his hair. The Doctor knew for a fact that Missy knew how to kiss, but that kind of kiss after pages of dirty literature had his head spinning. 

Missy’s nails bit into the back of his neck and she moved, hiking her skirt up to straddle his lap without missing a beat of their kiss. It was actually kind of impressive. It also allowed him to run his hands down her hips, up over the small of her back. Once his hands started moving on all the open back she was allowing him, the Doctor couldn’t really stop. They kissed for ages, until secondary respiratory systems kicked in and, no doubt, both their heads were spinning. She was rocking against him, using pressure points in the back of his neck to balance herself. Missy knew just where to touch him, how to press, to make his head spin and his prick harden. She understood his physiology because she had been in a Time Lord body herself. 

His fingers went to the small of her back, stroking until he found the echo of that sweet spot on her neck. Since they’d been boys, the slope of her bottom rib from spine to sternum never failed to make Missy shudder. This form was no exception. It was her who broke the kiss, pressing her forehead to his as the gesture got an actual moan. The blue of her iris was all but gone as she looked at him, searching his expression for any way to read him. Even he didn’t know how he felt about this. She looked ready to move and he repeated the move, trying to obliterate any thoughts she had on moving away. “Theta.” She just barely breathed his name, earning his mouth at her jaw. Missy stretched her neck and one of his hands found its way to her kerchief then to the buttons of her blouse until it was free from her skirt and open. She wore something silky underneath, another layer between his fingers and her skin. The very second he was able to touch bare skin, Missy shuddered for him, making a soft, desperate sound. The Doctor repeated the stroke of his fingers over her hip and got the same soft gasp. “It’s different as a woman,” Missy told him as he pushed her blouse off, leaving her bare shouldered. 

She whimpered just a little, maybe putting that one on, as his fingertips trailed from shoulder to the tip of her middle finger. “What is,” he tried to pull at the silk against her skin but found it was a long slip and would require her skirts coming off. 

“Everything. There’s just more. F… for instance,” his fingers ran around the collar of her slip, pushing one strap down so it hung mid bicep. “… my skin. It’s far more sensitive, so when you…” He pressed his palm to the small of her back and got a whimper, “.. when you touch me it’s just… it’s more.” 

“Good,” he told her softly, relishing the way her hands felt as they ran up his chest to push his jacket off his shoulders. She wanted him. This was sincere, he was very nearly positive on that. “I think that might be what’s helping you change, Missy.” His fingers ran down her spine well under the fabric of her slip, zeroing in on pressure points that left her shuddering and breathless. “Tell me I can have you.”

“You’d better,” she shot back as she reached up to unfasten her bra and pull it out from under her slip. He leaned forward and selfishly wrapped his mouth around now hard nipples though the thin fabric, wetting it down before pushing the rest over her shoulders to reveal Missy to the waist. This new form she’d taken on was pleasing, trim and curvy at the same time with long legs considering her short stature. “Doctor,” she gasped as his mouth went to her breast once more. He was stiffening under her, Missy doing all she could to push that with slow grinds of insistent hips. 

She was hot under her skirts, and as his hand found his way under, he also found out that she was bare under there. Meaning… no pants, and completely smooth. Missy’s body was wet and ready, a finger pushing into her with no issue. “You’re sure.” 

“If you don’t have me soon, I’m going to throw a tantrum.” The look in her eyes said she meant it and the Doctor told himself that meant there was no way he could refuse. His finger pushed deeper, twisting until he found the place that made Missy shudder. He felt her open more than her body to him, Missy’s mind came knocking quietly and he looked at her. “You wanted to know how different it felt as a woman,” she reasoned. He opened up for her, allowing Missy’s mind to meld into his in an easy slide. He equated it to an egg. You had yolk and white in an egg, separate but the same. That was how it felt with Missy’s mind wrapping around his. 

She was doing a good job partitioning out everything except echoing back to him how it felt to have his lips on her breast or his fingers sliding between her folds. “Keep going,” she urged, squeezing his bicep. The Doctor continued to touch Missy, sliding his fingers around and around the hard nub of her clit. The more he did it the more he could feel it echo back in himself. There was a hot-achey edge of it all that just proved to him how badly she wanted him. “Please,” Missy blinked, swallowing thickly as she tried to formulate real coherent thoughts. “I need you Doctor… Theta.” 

He was hypnotized by how good it felt to be touched that way yet how empty she felt with nothing inside. It was a war in Missy, fighting for what she really wanted. “You’re certain,” he asked looking deep into her eyes. Missy nodded, leaning in to kiss him in an effort to seal the deal. She rocked in his lap against the Doctor’s long fingers, right on the edge. He rocked her onto her back, sliding between her legs, skirts rucked up around Missy’s middle. He could feel her anticipation echo back into him, the channel between their minds still well and fully open. 

Missy’s legs hiked up around his waist, pulling the Doctor in closer. Her hearts sped at the sound of his zipper and he leaned in to kiss her again, palming himself a few times to prepare. It had been quite some time and it hadn’t even been this body, so the Doctor found himself a bit nervous. That bloomed into real anxiety as he lined up and started to push home inside her. There was a moment he worried, there was a twinge of pain from her as she opened to him but it passed and soon they were moving against each other. 

Missy opened her mind to him, letting him feel what she was feeling with every stroke. It was an intense feedback loop to be a part of and as her fingers ran down his neck, the Doctor contemplated telling her to stop. This was too intimate to be joined and _joined_ at the same time. It wasn’t an unpopular practice on their home planet back in the day, but the Doctor had never been great at holding himself together in moments like these so he shied from them. “Gods in the heavens,” he sighed as he moved home in her over and over, something building he couldn’t shy from. He kept up his pace, letting that sensation deep in her build up her spine until they were both in the throes of her orgasm. 

His orgasm would pale in comparison, an afterthought to what he was experiencing through Missy. “Do not stop,” she told him through tightly gritted teeth. He felt that building again, she couldn’t possibly be working towards a second could she? But her instructions were clear and the Doctor would follow them simply to see. It took him being very focused and very sure about what he was doing and the Doctor was not good at either of those things on a good day. But for her he’d work on it. He’d do a lot for this friendship, praying his good faith would make up for her bad. 

Compared to her pleasure, his felt two dimensional though nice. Was it really that much better for her as a woman or was Missy playing a trick on him? The Doctor didn’t know and wouldn’t until she chose to reveal herself. He held her after, running his fingers through her thick hair and thinking it was only a matter of time until she stabbed him in the back but it was worth it. It wasn’t until too late that he remembered their mental channel was open. “So it’s ok if I stab you in the back,” Missy asked quietly severing their communication on that higher level. 

“It’s kind of inevitable.”  
“I thought you thought I’ve changed,” Missy asked mocking hurt at him. 

“I’m not entirely convinced but I … I am trying,” he told her. If he weren’t none of this would have happened. She was alluring but he could control himself if he’d really tried. He just hadn’t wanted to. She was worth the risk. Hell, that’s what all this was, the vault, keeping her like a prisoner, all of it was a huge risk. But she was worth that risk and a lot more. 

“If trying were a sport you’d have the gold medal in it,” she told him with a cluck of her tongue. “Now get up and put your clothes on, I’ve got things to do this afternoon that don’t involve you.”


End file.
